by Platt, Sean
She made a noise, began to squirm out from beneath him.
A part of him knew he should let go, but that part had lost control.
Something else was guiding him.
Something that didn’t know mercy or empathy.
He kept thrusting, harder, faster.
She reached up, trying to pull his fingers away from her throat. Clawing at his hands and arms, trying to scrape at his face.
He growled, ignoring the pain, feeding from it, fueling it to fuck her harder.
As her face turned red, then purple, he found himself unable to stop, thrusting faster, until he was about to release.
But then something happened.
His hands locked on the girl’s throat, and he sucked the energy from her.
He could see her memories rushing by, feel her energy coursing through him.
And as he came in a shattering orgasm, her body burned with him still inside her.
Then whatever was controlling him let go.
And Caleb was alone with what he’d done.
He screamed, pulling himself off of the girl as her body turned to ashes in the bed.
He looked down at his hands, and had a sickening flashback.
Julia.
He’d taken his wife’s life in his sleep, while dreaming. An accident he had no control over.
But this … This was different.
It was as if he did have control, as if he wanted to do this.
He shook his head.
No, no, no.
He heard a clapping, and realized he wasn’t alone.
He spun around to face the shadows.
Jacob sat in a corner, his eyes practically glowing in the darkness.
Caleb remembered where he was, though still not how he arrived. The last thing he remembered was turning around to see his brother.
How did he get into bed with the woman? What had Jacob done to him?
“Doesn’t it feel good to finally embrace what you are?”
Caleb’s fists balled at his sides, and he rushed toward his brother, eager to kill him.
But then he froze, unable to move.
Caleb couldn’t see for certain, but felt Jacob smiling.
“Now, now, is that any way to treat your long-lost brother?”
“What did you do to me?”
“I’m helping you become what you were meant to be. To find your true nature. And might I say, you … performed quite well.”
“I didn’t do that,” Caleb said, shaking his head. “You … you somehow got in my head and controlled me.”
Jacob laughed, raising his hands. “Okay, okay, you got me. But didn’t it feel so good? I know you were there, experiencing it, just like me. And it was pretty fucking awesome, am I right? I forgot just how good sex can feel.”
“That wasn’t sex. That was …”
“Please, enough with the hysterics, Brother. You enjoyed it as much as I did. Or,” he said, looking up and down Caleb’s naked body, the stickiness all over his cock, “maybe more?”
Caleb wanted to cover up, but his body refused to obey his mind.
“Sit,” Jacob said.
Caleb fell backward on the bed, forced to comply.
“You and I are going to talk. And you’re going to tell me what I want to know. Do you understand me?”
“Fuck you.”
Suddenly, Caleb’s body was standing again, marching toward Jacob, against his will.
As he got closer, he wanted to reach out, strangle the fucker.
But Caleb was merely a marionette under his brother’s telepathic instructions.
Jacob reached into his jacket, pulled out a blade — silver and sharp rather than black.
He handed the blade to Caleb.
Caleb’s fingers closed around the hilt.
He wanted to drive it through Jacob’s eye socket, straight into his brain.
Jacob laughed as Caleb struggled to break free. “You so desperately wish to kill me. What did I ever do to you? I spared you, brother. I liberated you from that cunt of a mother and this is how you repay me?”
Caleb grunted.
“Sit back on the bed.”
Caleb’s body turned.
No, no, stay. Kill the fucker!
His body continued to disobey.
He sat back on the bed.
“Stab yourself in the gut, Brother.”
Caleb laughed.
Yeah, right.
But then his hand turned the blade around.
No, no, no!
His fingers tightened around the grip.
He then thrust the blade into his own stomach.
Caleb screamed.
You fuck!
“Silence!” Jacob commanded.
Caleb shut up, whimpering as his warm, sticky blood drizzled over his fingers and the hilt of the blade.
“Now, as I said, you will tell me everything, Brother. Beginning with how the hell you came to be part of The Hand of the Seven Gods.”
Forty
Raina
Raina had tried to take care of things on her own when she noticed that Caleb had left Golden Cove.
She tried to contact him telepathically, but he was either ignoring her attempts to connect or something had happened to him.
She only knew that he was in Under Harbor, not responding.
She would go on her own, but a horrible feeling lodged in her gut finally got the better of her. She’d gone to Prophet Malachi and told him what she thought Caleb was trying to do. He immediately assembled a team, riding to Under Harbor with twenty of their best soldiers on horseback led by himself and Raina.
She was wrapped head to toe, hood covering her face in shadow, masking what little sun bled through the cloudy late afternoon sky.
The ride had been mostly silent, but she could tell that Malachi was pissed. At Caleb for undermining his authority, and at her for not coming to him immediately after Caleb mentioned going to Jonah to investigate the Valkoer attack on Crow’s Nest.
As they approached the Town of Jonah, Malachi finally said, “Do you trust him?”
“Caleb?” she asked, looking back to make sure the others were out of earshot. Caleb had already suffered difficulties with the more strident members of The Covenant who took issue with his role — the last thing she wanted was to offer ammunition to their dear leader, who apparently also doubted his loyalty. It was one thing to have one Valkoer in The Covenant, two was a bit much for many, and some of their hate was seeping through in their interactions with her. Fortunately, Raina was The Covenant General, and her title still held enough power to prevent abuse. But she had no doubt that people were always angling to take her position away by other means.
“Yes, Caleb. Do you think he went behind our backs, conspiring with the Valkoer in Under Harbor?”
“To what end?”
“He knows some of our weaknesses, those of cities in The Southern Realm. He could deliver information to plan more attacks, and destabilize our leadership. If The Hand of the Seven Gods can’t keep the people safe, then perhaps the rabble will begin to reconsider their allegiance to The Seven Gods. There are other groups out there that would love to take our supporters — The True Believers, The Freemen’s Association, The Faith Alliance, and The Doctrine Promise — not to mention King Zol’s own rotten kingdom.”
“I can’t see Caleb doing that. He has helped us secure many towns against evil threats. And saved many lives. It’s what he did on Earth. It’s who he is. He has lost a lot, and that pain drives him.”
“Like you?” Malachi said, with an arched eyebrow.
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” he said, a smile belying his thoughts. “But does he have the faith?”
“Yes, I think so,” she lied.
“Really?” Malachi asked, eyebrow arched yet again. “Then I must doubt your ability to honestly assess him. Which means that either you’ve lost your ability to read people, or just Caleb specifically. And if it’s h
im specifically, then we must ask, why? Do you love him?”
“No,” Raina scoffed, glaring at Malachi. “I serve The Seven Gods.”
“Good. Because I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten your vows to The Seven Gods.”
She didn’t like the smug way Prophet Malachi was eying her, as though he knew some truth that she refused to admit. Like he knew her better than she knew herself. She wanted to wipe that smug grin from his face.
Something changed in his expression. The smile faded, replaced by something cautious, and Raina was afraid that maybe she’d revealed too much. That he saw her true feelings.
She’d done so well over the years hiding her growing distaste for the man and his ways. She did believe in The Seven Gods, and in their mission. Her faith in the religion was never in question. But her faith in its leader was, which presented a dissonance she couldn’t quite reconcile. How can you have faith in a religion but not the man who birthed it? If one was corrupt, how could the other be innocent? Was he a fraud, as the heathens accused, making a religion just to control others?
Or could he have started off with the best intentions, truly inspired by his encounter with The Gods so long ago, then fallen off track, warped by the day-to-day shite that wore away at everyone’s souls like rain against a mountain?
They came to the gates of Jonah as the sun set behind them and dismounted their steeds.
The gates were open but guarded by six men on the ground who checked anyone attempting entrance. Several additional guards were lined along two towers on either side of the gates, arrows ready to fell anyone attempting to force their way in.
The lead guard, an old heavyset man with a thick beard, instantly recognized Malachi. He approached and said, “Hello, Prophet Malachi. How may I help you this evening?”
“I’m here to see Jonah about an urgent manner.”
“Of course,” the man said, waving Malachi and Raina through, taking their weapons as was procedure.
The guard tried to stop the rest of the men from following, but they ignored his attempts to get in the way.
“Prophet Malachi, we must ask that your men stay behind, as we have no proper escorts for so many people.”
Malachi turned, slowly approaching the man, measuring him.
“We are The Covenant of the Seven Gods. Surely, we don’t need escorts. Right?” He said this with a smile and threatening eyes.
The guard looked down. “No, sir.”
“Very well, then,” Malachi said, leading the way into Jonah.
The guards, all of them with their weapons, waited just inside the city gates while Raina and Malachi went to meet Jonah.
They arrived at a dark tavern by the sea called The Lonely Fisherman, where Jonah could be found most hours, drinking or sometimes tending bar. He was the town’s leader, but very much a man of the people. Perhaps too much, thought Raina. Being that accessible, especially when you spent much of your time drinking or smoking soma, seemed like it would eventually erode the people’s respect.
But the folks in the fishing town were a different breed than most in The Southern Realm, and Raina was reasonably certain that there was nothing Jonah could do to lose his people’s respect. His legend was too great, and lesser men had ruled with weaker lore to their name.
They found Jonah in the back of the bar sitting alone at a table with several empty glasses of lager before him, and another two full ones ready to go. A soma pipe sat to his left, and in front of him, a leather-bound book he was writing in.
He looked up and quickly closed the book as they approached, adopting a smile that said he was happy to see them. But, like Malachi earlier, the smile didn’t match his eyes.
He stood and offered his hand. “Welcome to Jonah, Prophet Malachi and Sister Raina. What brings you to our town?”
Raina could tell by his body language that something was happening.
Malachi said, “I wish we were here under better circumstances. Could we have a word with you, alone?”
Jonah looked around as if he’d lost something, then turned to Malachi. “Yes. Come to my office.”
Jonah grabbed the soma pipe, his book, and one of the two full steins, then led them through a door in the rear of the tavern to his private office.
The back of the tavern was as grimy and dark as the rest of the place, but Raina had seen worse.
They took seats around a small, wobbly circular table. Jonah wiped two decks of cards aside and onto the floor, then set his drink and pipe on the surface.
“I’d offer you a drink, but I know better. Would you like some water?”
“No, thank you,” Raina said.
Malachi didn’t answer, getting right to business. “We’re looking for one of our Brothers. Caleb. Have you seen him?”
Raina watched the man’s face for any sign of deception.
“No, can’t say that I have. What makes you think he came here?”
He didn’t seem to be lying about Caleb, but the man was definitely hiding something. She could feel it like a horse hidden under a sheet.
Malachi said, “Caleb was on his way to Under Harbor, hoping to speak to an informant and find out about a Valkoer attack on Crow’s Nest.”
“Ah yes, I heard about the attack. A true shame. A pleasant town that never did anything to anyone.”
“Yes,” Malachi said, “and we have reason to believe that the Valkoer responsible are from Under Harbor.”
“Here?” Jonah laughed, then took a swig of his drink. “Impossible.”
Malachi turned his head slightly to the side. “Impossible? Why do you say that?”
“Because nobody here would ever do such a thing.” Jonah set his mug on the table with a thud. Lager splashed, but no one looked at the mess. The men’s eyes were locked, broaching a messy conversation.
Malachi folded his hands on his lap. “You’re a good man, Jonah, and you see the best in your people. It’s an admirable trait. One I aspire to myself. But I can’t help seeing the unrepentant people for what they are: wicked.”
Jonah crossed his arms over his barrel of a chest. “I’m not repentant, nor do I bow to The Seven. Am I wicked?”
Raina considered intervention before this turned into a battle of egos, but anything she said now would be dismissed by Malachi, especially considering her ice was already thin.
Malachi took a moment before responding, then, “All men are wicked who do not come before The Seven. That’s not a slight on you, Jonah. You are an admirable man, and a great leader of your people. I respect that. But you, like anyone, are prone to men’s frailties until you allow the light of The Seven into your soul. This is a fact, not a judgment.”
Jonah’s smile disappeared. He stared silently at Malachi, eyes red and glassy, arms still folded over his chest.
Malachi didn’t take the bait. He simply returned the man’s stare, hands folded on the wobbly table, fake smile on his face, looking as calm as one used to calling the shots.
Jonah finally broke. “What is it you want?”
“I want to talk to Baltazar. Caleb was meeting with him.”
Jonah nodded. “I spoke with him an hour ago. He said nothing of your Brother’s visit.”
“Just the same, I’d like to talk to him.”
“And if you don’t like his answers, what then? I’m not turning over any of my people, not until I can conduct an investigation. I hope you will recognize our sovereignty.”
Raina wondered if Malachi would get into an argument over the town’s independence. While the Town of Jonah was recognized as a free town under its own jurisdiction, it also operated under a treaty that forbade the existence of Under Harbor. Both towns existed because everyone looked the other way. But the Kingdoms could take issue with the secret city and revoke the Town of Jonah’s inclusion as a recognized city or invoke sanctions that would instantly cripple the town’s trading and economy.
Malachi didn’t argue the matter. He simply nodded and said, “I’m not here as an ene
my, Jonah. I’m here in the spirit of cooperation, hoping to prevent more massacres in The Southern Realm, and rule out anyone in Under Harbor. Because if it’s not your people, then it’s King Zol’s, and I’m sure you can see how that can be a problem for all of us.”
Jonah uncrossed his arms and nodded.
“May I speak to Baltazar?”
Jonah finished his drink, stood, then stuffed the pipe into his pocket and pointed toward the door. “Let us talk to him now.”
They descended into Under Harbor and followed a series of tunnels toward the shopping district, finding Baltazar at his smithing shop hunched over a grinding wheel, sharpening a long silver sword. Behind him, leaning against the wall, were another two dozen swords waiting to be sharpened.
She wondered if this was normal business or if he was preparing his people for war.
Baltazar was a bear of a man. Nearly seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, and with long dark brown hair and a long scruffy beard. Despite his terrifying appearance, he was soft-spoken and clearly intelligent. In Raina’s past conversations with him, he was as likely to talk about history and philosophy as about weapons or war.
He looked up from the grinding wheel and sighed, almost as if he were expecting Malachi and Raina, then stopped his work.
He walked over and shook Malachi’s hand, then Raina’s. She couldn’t help but focus on the Shadow Guild ring on his finger — the lantern in a cave, signifying the group as the only light in an otherwise dark world. She supposed that even thieves and assassins had to feel like they were part of something noble, though she couldn’t quite nail the moral acrobatics required to think stealing and murder were actions of light and not the essence of darkness they claimed to illuminate.
“Good evening, Brother and Sister.”
Jonah said, “Prophet Malachi and Sister Raina would like to talk to you about what happened at Crow’s Nest.”
“I figured you would come round sooner or later. Hold on a moment.”
He went to the shop’s door and locked it, then led them to the back, into a dark storage room packed to the ceiling with shelves stocked with weapons, metals, stones, leather, and everything else he needed to run his shop. It was a rat’s nest — Raina wondered how the man ever found anything.
